


Hamilton Modern AU Gothic

by AlanOfAllTrades



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Gen, Gothic, Just A Tiny Bit Crackish, Metafiction, Weird Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 05:25:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5993101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlanOfAllTrades/pseuds/AlanOfAllTrades
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What does "Modern AU" actually <i>mean</i>? Especially for the characters involved?<br/>Things (and people) happen. Things like dreams, dirty dishes, hangover and violence.<br/>The least important is the sock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hamilton Modern AU Gothic

Alexander Hamilton is staring at a ten-dollar bill.

There's something off about it. He just noticed that there was something off about it for a very long time.

It's staring him right in the face, but he cannot see it. For some reason he cannot focus on the bill, not really. His gaze slips and ignores... something.

Is it important?

He knows the bill is the same as any other ten-dollar bill he'd seen before. There is a number 10 printed on it. There is an image of Treasury Building. And a face.

 _Whose face is it?_ He doesn't think.

He can never think that.

*

"You know what's weird?" asks Lafayette.

"What?" asks Laurens. They are sitting on a couch, morning light slowly squeezing through blinds. A pair of feet - one sockless, one not - peep from under a nearby table. There are bottles everywhere and most of them are - to the regret of the gathered - empty.

"We've never see Mulligan and Madison together at the same time."

There is a moment of silence. Laurens blinks.

"Huh. Weird."

"That's what I said."

Some more silence. Some more light.

"If you squint" says Lafayette, shaking one of the bottles in vain. "And really, like... _don't think_ about it... They kinda look similar."

"Dunno" says Laurens in earnest. "Never thought about it."

"One is mild-mannered, bookish, and incredibly hypochondric the other is... well, Mulligan" continues Lafayette, half-awake.

"So what" asks Laurens "You thinks there's some sort of double identity going on? Like Clark Kent and Mister Hyde?"

"I'll have you know" booms the table in a muffled, Mulliganish voice "Yo momma calls me 'superman'."

"Dude." say Laurens, and only now he understands how tired he is "It wasn't funny the first time. Why do you think it could be funny the millionth?"

"It's funny to me." says the table.

"Yes, and we've mourned your sense of humor a long time ago."

"We did." Lafayette nods. "There was a service and everything. We wore black clothes, went to an actually funeral house and Alex even gave a speech. There was this really small coffin and we buried it in someone's backyard. After that we got shitfaced."

"I don't remember that" says the table. The foot that is not sockless circles lazily in the air.

"Because after that we got shitfaced."

"That would make sense."

They keep talking. Sometimes they even make sense on purpose.

Not on this particular topic though.

*

 _Someone should be doing these things for me_ , thinks Thomas Jefferson, looming over the kitchen sink full of dirty dishes. It's not an unpleasant thought.

He stops in his tracks to ponder this more deeply. Yes. Someone should be doing all the boring, menials stuff so he could focus on what's really important. Someone a bit more... inessential then him.

"What are you thinking about?" asks Martha.

"Oh, nothing important" he lies. Then he continuous. "Actually, I have an idea. We should invite your stepsister. Tighten the family bonds, you know." He thinks how hot his wife's stepsister looked in a bikini the last time round. "Maybe even hit the beach?"

Martha beams at him. _Yes_ , thinks Thomas Jefferson. _Inessential_.

"Honey, could do finish this up for me?" he asks gesturing at the sink "I just need to finish up something for work."

"Well... I know your work is important..." she sighs "But... You remember? About your promise?"

"Of course" he lies again. "Don't worry your pretty little head."

*

"You know..." says Charles Lee. "You don't really look like sisters."

All three Schuylers react. Angelica glares. Eliza scoffs. Peggy does this thing with her nose that no-one can duplicate or even appropriately describe, but absolutely everyone adores. Then they just stare at him for a very, very short while.

"What." asks Angelica with calm not unlike those right before earthquakes. "Do you mean? _Charles?_ "

A smart man would choose this moment to back off. To apologize profusely, maybe even grovel a little, if he knew himself to be a particularly good groveler. Then he would disappear from the face of the Earth for a foreseeable future, if he had any semblance of survival instinct or even basic decency.

Smart man would. But Charles Lee says "Oh, that's simple. I mean, ah, when you really think about it, and, you know, _look_ , you can see that Eliza is not like..." something tells him he should stop. It is, however, much too late.

Peggy shifts her weight from one leg to the other. Eliza seems to ignore him, but there is something in her hand that was not there just a moment ago. And Angelica makes a small step towards him, just once.

"Yes?" Angelica shows her teeth. It's not a smile. "Tell us. About Eliza. _Some more_ _._ "

He feels cold, but not with his body. At first he notices the silence. Then he tastes it. It's more then just absence of sound, it's like being hit by a hammer made out of void. Deafening. Almost unreal. He wonders what's the worst thing that could happen. He's afraid the knows the answer.

He feels very lonely for a very, very short while.

Then, well... Schuler sisters happen.

But Angelica happens the most.

*

George Washington thinks of America.

He thinks about it a lot.

There is a shape of a thought missing. A ghost of an idea bouncing around in his brain. Some good could be done, perhaps. Not only here. Everywhere.

A strong gust of wind knocks a straw hat of his head. He sights, picks it up and gets back to work. Tobacco won't care for itself, you know.

*

Aaron Burr dreams of dark rooms and men with power.

He smiles. It's not a nice smile.

*

Alexander Hamilton is staring at a ten-dollar bill. He wonders what he could buy for it at the store. Nothing more.

"Hey, Alex!" he hears a voice. It's Eliza. Or maybe Laurens. There is a difference, of course, but not as great as you think. Not with the really important things.

"What's up?" he grins, because it's both of them and that really makes him happy.

"We were wondering..." starts Eliza and Laurens picks it up. "Want to catch a show with us? It's a musical. People say it's pretty cool."

"A musical? What about?"

"You won't believe."

"Try me."

They tell him. He doesn't believe. They go anyway.

And the world keeps going, after a fashion.

  
  


 


End file.
